


Ragnarok Can Wait

by Iamnamedsilence



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:07:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamnamedsilence/pseuds/Iamnamedsilence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If a god's power is measured by number of his worshipers, what will happen to a god who had never had any and now, thanks to popular culture got plenty of them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ragnarok Can Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marron/gifts), [Riziak](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Riziak).



> For Riziak, Marron and other fans. What have you done...

The make-up artist looked first at her set of brushes, then at his face.

‘You look nervous’ she declared, smiling. ‘Don’t tell me it’s stage-fright, because I won’t believe that. It’s not your first time with such a publicity. You’ve seen your fans before... Now close your eyes.’

He did it, and the girl put some powder on the brush and then on his face. He felt the powder in his nose, but stopped himself from sneezing. When he opened his eyes the make-up artist was looking for a darker shade of powder to make his cheeks and face more narrow.

‘I always have a stage-fright, Sylvia’ he said, sending her a smile. With this smile he used to make fans crazy, and he sometimes doubted this power, this making his smiles even more honest. Adorable, as some said. ‘Today I really have a feeling, that they put such hopes in me, and I’m not even sure what they hope for. I don’t know...’ He raised his hand to look at his fingers. They felt weird today, stiff, as if something was blocking blood pressure. There were moments when he felt as if something was holding tight his wrists. He still didn’t put the bracers on, though, and even if he did, they were not tight and heavy enough to cause the impression. ‘I feel weird today.’

‘How weird?’ Sylvia asked.

‘I have to go to the stage and lead the crowd. There is a great responsibility coming with this power.’ He used a pop-cultural _cliché_. ‘It’s not that my character doesn’t like the power, but I’m afraid he isn’t as certain about the responsibility. And Sylvia, there is going to be the whole cast on “Days of the Future Past” panel! No way I’m going to beat them, and I think that’s what I’m expected to do.’

Sylvia smiled from under her dark hair. When she leaned, they covered her face and a scar on the girl’s right cheek. It was a particularly nasty burn mark, left by acid. It didn’t disfigure Sylvia’s pretty face, but was quite visible. The woman creating scars and wounds on actors’ faces rarely hid the marks she had: the one on the cheek and some smaller ones on her hands and forearms. Tom, who had known Sylvia for some years, dared to ask her some day about the scars. Did someone poured acid on her?

‘Not on me’ she answered with a serious look on her face.

She explained that it had been a side effect of her trying to help somebody. That was all she said, and Tom wondered if it had been an accident or an attack. Sylvia didn’t hide her scars and seemed not to have any problems with them. She wasn’t going to have a surgery, and if she really needed to cover the burns, she used make-up. And she was a good make-up artist. Maybe the best one.

They met three years ago on the set and worked together since then. Tom liked Sylvia’s professionalism, her friendly attitude, open-mindedness and a gift for listening to other people. He considered her his friend, and he even thought once of changing the nature of their relationship but Sylvia wasn’t interested either in him or other men. She wasn’t interested in women either. More so in her work, in drawing, in which she was really good, and in books. She read a lot, and her choices were often of unusual nature. A few months ago she had been reading something in Polish – such an exotic language - who could expect her to know it! The book had a white cover with the picture of a red-haired man wearing leather coat and holding a gun with silencer in one hand, a pendant with the Thor’s hammer dangling from the other one.

‘What is it about?’ Tom asked, interested in his friend’s readings.

She burst into laughter.

‘About you.’

He raised his eyebrows.

‘Oh. I see. But I’m not sure if it’s precisely about me.’

‘But a bit, yes. I had explained you already: you are the character you’re playing.’

‘Grotowski, now again?’

‘Grotowski, Schechner, Caillois... The actor on the stage is like a shaman in his trance. He blends with his character into one. There is no Tom Hiddleston anymore, but Tom Hiddleston-who-is-also-Loki. That’s why I’m saying the book is about you.

‘Well, Loki is quite a popular character.’

‘And you are making him more popular.’

And she was right. After three movies, one of them not being distributed yet, Tom made a villain into a well known – and loved – character. One would say it was an unusual coincidence, but Loki played by Tom was more than a villain from comics and Norse mythology. He was an antihero full of inner conflicts and strong feelings. Viewers loved such characters. Of course, they also loved characters ~~,~~ who were equally charismatic ~~,~~ and evil, and were played by talented actors. Such was Joker in “Dark Knight”, and Heath Ledger’s part was both praised and veiled in dark legend. But Ledger’s Joker was a sociopathic madman, and the character played by Tom had motivations deeper and more complicated than simply waking chaos and havoc. No matter how evil the mythological Loki was, current culture accepted him as its part and the asgardian black sheep created a complex and multidimensional character. Tom’s part in movies was just one of possible interpretations. The polish book read by Sylvia was another one, like Neil Gaiman’s “American Gods” and a lot of others. It seemed that Sylvia collected those interpretations and was more interested in them than in the actor, she was working with.

‘Oh, come on!’ she said, while putting dark powder on Tom’s cheeks. ‘They love you! You just need to make them show this love to you.’

‘I’ll be in character.’

‘Oh, they love Loki too. Let them show it. Make them kneel or something like that.’ She giggled.

She was in a very good mood today, although she had a lot of work with the actors present at the convention. She wasn’t looking tired though, and in the morning Tom heard her whistling a melody. It sounded a bit like Wagner.

‘Well, I believe they’ll do what I tell them’ Tom agreed. He grinned mischievously in a way Loki could grin.

‘That’s it!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s how it is! Get into the character! That’s the right smile in the right place and time. There are mortals from Midgard waiting out there for their rightful ruler, ready to kneel before him! You’ll have them in your power once you get to the stage, and you’ll be able to do whatever you want! Remember – while in character, you’re not yourself anymore, but...’

‘I’m blended with my character. I know. I’m like a shaman or something.’

‘A shaman needs a special outfit’ Sylvia said, reaching out for the bracers. ‘Give me your hand, I’ll lace them for you’

He shivered feeling thick, gold-painted leather around his wrists. Again he felt as if something hard and heavy was blocking his hands. He strained muscles on his hands in an irrational attempt to get rid of these imagined bonds.

Watching his unusual behavior, Sylvia shook her head. She didn’t stop smiling though.

‘Something wrong?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know... no. Nothing’s wrong. But you look so happy today, like something special happened.’

‘Really? You can see that?’

‘Of course, I can. What’s this?’

‘Love.’

He raised his eyebrow.

‘I hope it isn’t me you’re in love with.’ he joked.

The way she stared at him was serious.

‘Tom, you’re a great guy, and I often want to hug you and kiss you. As like now. I’d like to give you a big smooch, but I don’t like to ruin what I’ve just done. I have no time to put a make-up on you again. You’re a wonderful, adorable man and an amazing actor, but no, I couldn’t fall in love with you. I’m already married, you see.’

Tom’s eyes went wide from surprise.

‘Married? Sylvia, I have known you for three years and I’ve never thought... When did you get married and why didn’t you tell me that?

‘It was before I met you, a long, long time ago. I didn’t tell anyone, because... Well, it’s very complicated. I haven’t seen my husband for years. But it’s going to change soon. That is why I’m so happy today.’

He realized that this is  something he shouldn’t ask about. Like Sylvia’s acid burns. Maybe those two things were connected somehow? That could be a movie-like story with consequences in form of the girl being burned and her husband... He could be in prison – that would explain why she didn’t want to talk about him. But why was he imprisoned? Because he attacked his own wife? But Sylvia didn’t seem to be the kind of woman who would wait such a long time for the man who had hurt her.

‘Well’ he said after a longer while. ‘I’d like to meet your husband then.’

‘Well, I think he would like to meet you too’ she said with a wide smile on her face. She finished lacing the second bracer. ‘As for now, wear your coat and get ready. You’re on stage in a few minutes. I’ll be around, watching how it goes. Good luck.’

‘Thanks.’

The plan was that all the lights go out to maximize the impact of Tom’s appearance. Darkness was the sign for the actor to go to the stage and start talking. Then a headlight, focused on him, was to be turned on.

Tom felt uneasy in the darkness, although there was noting wrong and there were people around him, convention staff, other actors waiting for their participation in the panel. It was weird, but he felt as if there was something more out there, waiting. Something, he was unable to understand. The feeling he knew from some of his dreams: a heavy pressure on his wrists, stretched muscles, hurt and swollen lips, burning all over the face. As if his body, hurt and restrained, was in another place, although he still was there, at the stage entrance in San Diego.

If he strained his arms a bit more, would he at least get rid of what have been blocking his wrist? If he did, the other things would get easy...

He clutched his hand, stretched his muscles and felt something cracking and falling apart over his arm.

“I hope it’s not the bracer’ he thought scared. A wardrobe malfunction was the last thing he needed now.

‘You’re in, Tom.’ he heard.

He still was here, in a real place on Earth.

“I have to be in character” he thought. “I’m not myself anymore. I’m like a shaman calling a deity to possess him.’

He stood on the dark stage. All he heard was silence and pressure, stopped breaths of the audience.

He had no problems with remembering his part. He stood there speaking to the audiencereacting with enthusiastic shrieks and squeals. They become even louder when a dramatically placed lightning showed the actor. Tom went down-stage, opening his arms. He felt the situation overwhelming him, the power he had over the audience. Stage-fright, if he ever had it, disappeared along with other unusual feelings. There was nothing but energy flowing through the Tom’s body. He was himself no more, but a blend of what was real and what was fiction of comic and mythological origin. The screaming crowd and flashlights made him even more sure that he indeed had the power. He smiled with triumph, looking at the people below, and they answered with his character’s name. He could order them to scream this name, so he did this, and they screamed louder and louder, while he stood there – listening and watching.

Then he heard something else: a loud crack, as if something made of metal has been broken violently. He thought at first that something wrong was with his microphone, but it seemed that only he had noticed the sound. It came from another place. Then he saw a sudden burst of light that didn’t come from a headlight or camera, and Sylvia running towards the light. But no one noticed it. Tom continued his performance.

‘It seems, I have an army’ he said with a wide grin, causing more laughter and applause, and then he left the stage. Now, there was the time for a new movie trailer and then for the rest of the panel.

The impression of being cuffed disappeared at once. The bracers fit as always, like the rest of the costume. Multiple layers of black, green and golden leather were heavy and not very comfortable, but after three movies he got used to them.

Sylvia wasn’t there on the backstage anymore. If it had been really her, running through the hall towards the sudden light, she must have had something really important to do.  Other staff members helped him to wash away the make-up and take off the costume.

***

It was very late at night when Tom finally came back to his hotel room. The lights inside were turned on, and he thought at first that the cleaning staff must had left them that way. As in the movie, he noticed the presence of an intruder only when he spoke.

‘Hello’ said the voice behind Tom.

The actor looked back at the sofa where moments ago no one had been sitting. But now someone was there: not a crazy fangirl, but Tom himself. Bright-haired and tall, dressed in jeans and t-shirt, Tom Hiddleston sat on a sofa and looked amused.

The Tom who just went into the room, blinked. Did he dream or did he just have met himself?

He came nearer, glaring at his own copy, and the copy glared back at him, grinning in a way Tom would never grin outside of the movie set.

‘Is that a dream I want to be awaken from, or do I want to know what happens next?’ Tom asked himself – either one of himselfs or another.

‘Sit down’ his double said, pointing at an armchair. ‘Make yourself comfortable. I assure you, you don’t want to wake up, and there is no way you would because you’re not dreaming. I was promised that we’ll get something to drink soon’.

Tom sat down. He was nervous and tense, while his copy occupied the sofa in the most nonchalant pose Tom had ever seen.

To tell the truth, this pose was also a copy of his own. As if the double imitated Tom’s behavior from his movies. And he seemed to be highly amused.

‘What is happening?’ Tom enquired.

The copy didn’t disappear. He sat there looking now above Tom’s head, at the opening door.

Tom also glared at the door. He hoped he’ll see something that will put an end to this absurd situation, but what happened made everything more surreal. Sylvia entered the room, pushing a hotel cart containing a tray with teapot, three cups and a huge plate full of sandwiches. She closed the door behind her and then she threw Tom’s copy a serious glance.

‘Stop it, my love.’ she ordered.

The double, because it was him she was talking to, shrugged.

‘I’m not doing anything wrong!’ he cried.

‘Yes, you are. You are scaring my friend. I told you not to do it and you of course had to ignore my advice.’

‘I like how he looks!’ the copy protested. ‘How do you think should I look like?’

‘Like yourself.’

‘You wouldn’t like it even more, and you know that.’ the copy stated.

And he changed his appearance before Sylvia was able to react.

And the way he looked now was even more horrible.

He was tall, thinner than Tom had ever been, and more pale that the impression of paleness Tom made while wearing make-up and a black wig. Actually, it were his forearms, that were the most pale, because his face and neck was a hideous mask of acid burns resembling the one on Sylvia’s cheek, but covering all the skin surface.

No, not all of it, because man’s eyes were left untouched. They seem to shine with their own unnatural light, one of them fiery red, the second one pale blue, like ice. If the acid burned his face so badly, it should destroy also the man’s eyes, but there they were, bright and uncanny.

There were more marks on the man’s lips, or on what used to be his lips. They were pierced multiple times and never healed. Man’s wrists bore bloody marks of heavy shackles, still fresh.

Tom shied, and that was all he was able to do now, shocked.

‘Stop it at once my love!’ Sylvia ordered once more. ‘Enough of this! Behave yourself!’

The disfigured man changed once more. It was like one frame suddenly changing into another, without a fluid morphing from one picture to another.

He still was pale and thin, but his scars disappeared, leaving his fox-like face untouched. The eyes stayed the same: one of them icy blue, the other golden-red, as the fiery colored, uneven hair. The man that was sitting now in front of Tom was unknown to him and odd-looking, but he didn’t look very frightening anymore.

Sylvia sighed.

‘That’s better. I’ve got you some sandwiches. Tom, I hope you had already eaten? My husband needs a lot of energy, you know...’

‘Oh, I got lots of it a few hours ago’ said the red-haired man with a smirk on his face.

Her husband. That was the Sylvia’s mysterious husband, about whom Tom heard for the first time this very morning.

He was red-haired as proverbial devil, weird-eyed and scarred all over his body. Acid burns on his face, marks left by shackles and by a thread that used to hold his lips together.

‘I am dreaming!’ Tom shouted. He covered his face in his hands.

‘No, you’re not.’ said Sylvia softly. She put the tray on the table. ‘Have some tea. The tea is always good.’

He took the cup. His hands were shaking. He dared not to look at his guest and at the make-up artist, who sat beside her husband and embraced him.

She looked happy. The happiest person in the world.

That was Sylvia, who read those unusual books. That was Sylvia, who told him about how the actor blends with his character, as if he was a shaman or priest possessed by a god.

What if the character is indeed a god? A god, whose image was heavily modified by the popular culture, but still: a god is a god.

‘Let’s take it’s not a dream.’ said Tom slowly, thinking about uncanny feeling he had before he entered the stage. It had been appearing earlier, in dreams, during last three years. Since he accepted the role and since he met Sylvia. ‘Let’s take it is real. Then you must be...’ He looked at the woman whom he used to consider his friend. ‘Sigyn, right?’

She smiled.

‘Nice of you, that you remember it,’

Tom jerked his head.

‘Please... I want to know what have actually happened?’

‘Oh, that is easy’ the red-haired man said. His name was Loki. That was his name more than anyone else’s. ‘It’s a very, very simple rule. A god that is worshiped is a strong god. And the attention that was given to me today by my new worshipers was enormous. I’ve never felt anything like that, when they screamed my name. You make them do it, thus making you my priest, I suppose.

He took one of the sandwiches, bite onto it, grimaced, then swallowed. This action seemed so trivial that it was getting disturbingly weird.

‘Food helps, of course. Gods don’t have to eat, mind you, but they can, and it can make us feel better, and I really need to feel a bit better after I was lying on this dammed rock for hundreds of years and after that snake spitted acid on me. You’ve seen me, I look as pretty as my own daughter now, and Hel isn’t very beautiful. It won’t heal easily, and now way I’m getting some apples from Idunn, so I need to try something on my own. Oh, but at least my wife is the most amazing being in the world!

He looked at Sigyn, and there was adoration in his eyes. She smiled sweetly, but not without self-satisfaction.

‘I did my best.’

‘You did more than your best!’ Loki exclaimed. ‘It took her more than a century! But you were the one who had the last word.’ he said to Tom. ‘And here I am. And I wanted to thank you, because without you I’d have to wait for Ragnarok. And instead I’m free to do whatever I want.’

‘Dear God’ Tom sighed. A god, or rather two of them, sat in front of him. And one of them was known of, so to say, being dangerous. Of course, pop-cultural variants could be more kind-hearted, but that absolutely didn’t guarantee the same attitude from the original. And as far as Tom knew the Norse mythology, setting Loki free didn’t mean anything good. ‘What have I done!’

‘What have you done, what have my new worshippers done.’ Loki shrugged. ‘Good job.’

‘Does it mean the Ragnarok is coming?’

The god of lies gave himself a moment to think.

‘About Ragnarok... You know, I haven’t considered it yet. But I think I’m not exactly in the mood for it. You know, I’ve never really had worshippers until now, and it’s really refreshing. Yes, it is.’ He stretched like a pleased cat and Tom thought about the overwhelming feeling the power gave him on stage. The power that was flowing through him and into the real Loki. ‘That was what I needed! And I don’t need any Ragnarok. I’m in no mood for dying. I want to cherish what I have – that is, my new worshippers and the best wife in the all Nine Worlds.’ He smiled at Sigyn. ‘It’s good to be free, believe me, Tom.’

‘It is’ the actor agreed.

He thought suddenly, that it could had ended differently, and in the darker and most cruel version of this story he could be imprisoned in place of the god of lies. He should be thankful to fate and to Sylvia – or Sigyn – that it didn’t happen.

‘Well, what are you going to do now?’ he enquired.

‘Go somewhere. Stick a tongue at old man Odin, but from a distance, you know, I’m not in a hurry to get back into my old post. I could also visit you someday on a set. As your double, you know, I bet I would be as good as playing Loki as you – if not better.’

‘Yes.’ Tom sighed.

The god of lies got up and patted the actor’s shoulder.

‘You don’t have to be afraid of me.’ He said. ‘I pose no danger to you. A god would have to be stupid to harm his priest.’

Tom wasn’t exactly sure what happened next, but he assumed that they left. He woke up next morning thinking that the entire situation was his dream. Just on the table, in a place where – if meeting with the gods was true – a teapot, cups and plate should lay, he found a letter.

_Please forgive me, that this is so sudden, but I quit the job. You’ll have to work with someone else, I have no doubt that it will be no problem for you. Now my husband is back and everything changed. We’ll meet someday again, I promise. I’m still your friend._

_S._

She didn’t use her full name. None of them.

 

THE END (Or is it?)

**Author's Note:**

> Kraków, 3th December 2013  
> Translated on 4th and 5th December 2013 by the author


End file.
